We Come Running
by Carl Poppa's Gingerbread Boy
Summary: "I did what I had to. They won't understand today, they might not understand tomorrow, but they'll understand when they're faced with the same problem." He understood. I could tell; the way his eyes flashed with a mixture of empathy and sorrow and they way his lips parted slightly. He'd done it, too. He understood what I'd done. He knew it wasn't my fault. ON HOLD [ Carl G. x OC ]
1. Hostility

_Notice - In response to a recent review I got pointing out that my timeline is_ way _off accuracy, I'm aware. It would have made everything harder for me in the end with everything that I've planned, sorry for not stating that earlier. If it becomes too much of a problem I'll change it, but for now I hope it's not. I added about two and a half years to where season five left off, one and a half of which I added for the convenience of the story and the the other year I added because it had been one year since they'd arrived at Alexandria that I wrote this. Thanks!_

 **We Come Running  
Chapter One ~ Hostility  
Carl's POV**

 _Under a pale blue sky,  
you never felt so cold._

It had been five years since the apocalypse began. Three years since my mom died. Two since we left Terminus. One since we arrived at Alexandria. Exactly one month ago, Maggie gave birth to a beautiful baby girl named Lori. I'll admit, it was hard for me to look at her in the eye.

I placed the final pebble in the center of the make-shift Tic Tac Toe board, scoring another win with a full diagonal row.

"I win, that's a final of ten points for Carl," I announced, clearing the pebbles from between the sticks making up the game board. Enid made a frustrated grunting noise and made another tally mark under the large 'C' we had drawn into the fresh brown soil. "You know what that means."

She grunted again and wiped the scoreboard clean. We played Tic Tac Toe almost every day, and we gambled. Not money, just everyday items: comic books, soda bottles, video games, sometimes we even exchanged clothes. Most of her shirts didn't fit right on me, mine fit her fine, but she liked to take my socks since she usually gaping holes in hers from climbing trees with no shoes on.

"Alright, boy. What do you want this time?" Enid seized her dark green satchel bag from where it was leaning against the large oak tree to her right. Once she had it gripped, she unzipped it and tilted it down, letting the contents pour out. I surveyed my selection closely.

There was a green plastic water bottle, two balls of green string, a heavy brown rock, a sparkly blue pen, and an Issue #37 Endgame Part 3 Batman comic. "Hey, I've read that one," I mused, picking up the aged comic and thumbing through it carefully. When I finished skimming the comic, I flipped back to the last page and examined the bottom right corner carefully. "That's because it was mine! I think I lost this to you last week," I held out the opened booklet and placed my finger on the corner where the initials 'C.G.' were drawn in with what seemed to be a magic marker.

She chuckled, leaning back onto the oak tree and popping another potato chip into her mouth from the large chip bag we had lying in the center. "Take it back if you want."

"Nah, I think I'll take…" I hovered my hand over the pile of goods, considering my options. Eventually I came to the decision of the green water bottle. "This. I must say, it's been a pleasure doing business with you." I tipped my large brown sheriff's hat to her jokingly, the way gentlemen do to women on the street.

Enid rolled her eyes and leaned forward again, scooping the remainder of the items back into their original place of storage. "What'd you bring for me?" We always showed each other what we brought. Y'know, to make the loser see exactly what they could've won.

I gave her a devious smile as I slipped my black and gray backpack from its place on my shoulder. "You're gonna be mad…" I teased, shooting her an evil smile while I unzipped the bag. "See for yourself," I tossed her the bag and leaned back against my tree lazily, reaching my hands back to rest behind my head.

"No way!" She shouted, removing from the bag one of my most prized possessions: A tanned leather knife sheath, complete with a shiny and sharpened hunting knife tucked securely inside. "Carl… How did you… Why would you even risk me taking this?!"

I shot her the evil smile again. "I was feeling a bit lucky today, I guess," I beamed, snatching the sheath and knife back out of her hands. I removed the knife and began tracing it along the bark in my tree.

"Cheater,"

"Oh, admit it. I'm just better than you at Tic Tac Toe,"

"Fine." She sighed in defeat, standing up from where she sat with her legs crossed on the grassy forest floor and walking over to sit next to me. "Hey, let's carve something into the tree,"

"Like what?"

"Here, lemme see the knife," She requested, holding her hand out for me to place it in. I reluctantly did so. "Don't look," She ordered, shifting slightly sideways on the tree so her canvas was only barely out of sight. I chuckled and closed my eyes.

The sound of scraping wood was somewhat calming combined with the soothing sounds of rustling leaves and chirping birds.

"Are you almost done?" I asked after a few minutes.

"Almost. Chill your grill," She hissed back.

Enid had been my friend since we arrived here at Alexandria. She always told me I was the only person who seemed to understand her. That proved not to be true as she quickly opened up to me and, in turn, she eventually came accustomed to the friends I'd made. She knew them shortly before I did, but she was always the quiet girl of the group. None of them really knew much about her. About one month ago, she had confessed her feelings for me. I was taken aback but not surprised; it had become the talk of the school. I felt awful, rejecting her, but we stuck on good terms. I even managed to set her up with Andrew, a kid who arrived a few months after me.

"Hey!" Daryl's raspy shout echoing through the forest caused me to snap out of my thoughts and shoot off the ground into a standing position. He wasn't yelling at us, though, because the shout was too far away.

"Enid, get up! Get your stuff! We have to go!" I hissed, grabbing her arm and pulling her away from the tree. She fell sideways and the knife sliced a clean cut through my jeans and into the skin of my leg. With a short grunt from the pain, I snatched the knife out of her hand and safely into the sheath.

My hand still wrapped around her arm, we began running back to the gates where we'd sneak in and act like we were never out. Kids weren't allowed out of the town unless they were with an adult. Only the adults with jobs were permitted to leave the refuge of the town, but Enid and I both had habits of ignoring that rule in particular. The last time we were caught, Daryl took three of my videogames. And he kept them. And he played them. In front of me. It wasn't the worst possible punishment, but Daryl had made us promise that, as long as we never did it again, nobody had to know.

Well, now we'd done it again. Enid struggled to grab hold of her bag still lying on the ground. Finally, she slung it over her shoulder and pursued me toward the main gate of Alexandria.

Right as we approached the gate, our spirits were crushed by more words from Daryl. This time it wasn't an echo, but a hot breath on our necks. "Don't bother, I've already seen ya," There was less anger in his voice than I expected but still frustration. I sighed, letting my arms drop down from where they tangled with the gate handle and let them hand at my sides, admitting defeat. "I told y'all, don't be comin' out here no more."

"Daryl, you can't expect us to—" I began my counterargument before I recognized other screams coming from deeper inside the forest. "Did you get someone?" Daryl and Aaron acted as the recruiters of Alexandria. The traveled to nearby camps or pursued travelling packs and tried to convince them to come back. Aaron did most of the convincing, though, while Daryl did more of the hitting and punching and yelling.

"Yep," He responded, no enthusiasm able to be detected in his voice or face. "She's a feisty one."

"Daryl!" We heard Aaron's shouts from around the wall. "Daryl, I need backup!"

Daryl gave us a dirty look and pointed accusingly as he walked away, shouting, "Y'all better pray this girl knocks me out so bad I forget."

I gulped and looked over at Enid whose facial expression was mirroring mine exactly. "Mental note: Don't fuck with Daryl. Ever." She murmured, almost jokingly, even considering the circumstances. We stood there awkwardly, the way you do when you're at a friend's house and they're getting yelled at by a parent.

Sounds of struggle and the occasional cry out escaped from around the corner where Daryl and Aaron were wrestling down the girl Daryl had mentioned. We just remained where we were, standing next to each other awkwardly and trying to come up with good cover stories for why we were out here.

Suddenly I remembered the knife. Someone—probably my dad or Michonne, considering they're the sheriffs of the town—would search our bags. Nobody in the town, _especially_ a minor like me, was allowed to have weapons unless they were approved by someone of high authority. Usually you could only get them approved if you went on lots of runs or were a guard. Sheriffs used to be able to carry them until my dad held the mayor, Deanna, at gunpoint and threatened her to change her ways. Now the sheriffs are only permitted to have tasers.

"Enid," I whispered, careful to avoid Daryl hearing as much as I could. I pulled the knife out of the sheath which was clipped to my belt loop and held it out for her to see, hoping she's get the message. Her eyes widened and I assumed she understood what I was saying.

"Let me see it," whispered back, taking the knife from my hand and waiting for the sheath to be given as well. I unclipped it silently and craned my neck to make sure Daryl wasn't watching. I couldn't see much, but I did see flashes of long, matted brown hair and a few shots of Daryl's strong fist.

"Is it clear?"

"Yeah. Where are you going?" I reached for her shirt to stop her from running away, but I was unsuccessful. "Enid!"

She stealthily worked her way over to the nearest tree, which she flatted herself against the back of. She continued to do this, venturing from tree to tree, until she finally reached a tree that was hollow inside. She was barely in sight of me, but I was able to see her standing on her toes, struggling to reach something inside the tree. When she did, she let herself back down, empty-handed.

That tree had been there forever. Enid and I had taken shelter inside it when I was fairly new to the place. That was the first day I even knew her. We were sitting next to each other on a log, talking about our families, our dreams, our friends. A pack of walkers neared and we ran into the tree.

I almost kissed her. Almost.

I remember that day like it was yesterday. I could tell by the look on her face that she wanted me to kiss her; almost begging. But I didn't. Things would be different if I had. They'd be different between the two of us, and things would've turned out different. Maybe it would've been better, possibly worse, but I was okay with the way things turned out now.

She gave me a beaming look, obviously proud that she had gotten away with the first part of her adventure. But she still had to get back.

On the way back she was less careful. She didn't hide behind as many trees as she did on the way there, but she did crouch low to avoid drawing attention. Despite the abundance of crunchy autumn leaves on the ground, her footsteps couldn't be heard over the sound of Daryl and Aaron fighting their attacker.

It might have been smart of me to go and help them, but I knew better. The last time I tried to help Daryl while he was in a brawl, I ended up getting punched in the jaw. I was in the medical office, which was a rundown house used as a hospital, for three days. Only one of which Daryl came to visit, bringing me a bouquet of half-dead flowers bound together with a shoelace.

Enid was back and standing next to me within a matter of seconds. She was a fast runner, almost as fast as me.

"Is she killing them or something?" She chimed, poking her heard around the corner to get a look at the fight. I did the same, still cautious of one of them seeing us. Aaron was easier going, but I still didn't want to risk him seeing us.

It looked like Daryl was winning while Aaron stood back, obviously uncomfortable, reaching into the quarrel every now and then in a sad attempt to push the girl or tug at her hair.

She was small, short and skinny, with long brown hair trailing down her back. It was interlaced with leaves and twigs, hinting that she had a hard time coming through these woods. Her clothes were saggy and torn, fitting loosely on her petite body. I guessed she was probably around 30, maybe older, and she shouted inaudible or otherwise muffled words or phrases.

We watched silently for a moment, eventually growing bored of the repetitive hitting and grabbing.

Things got interesting when, in one swift movement, the middle-aged woman had kicked Aaron hard in the groin and left him lying on the ground squealing in pain. She hadn't lifted much of a threat, but only a second later Daryl was pinned against the strong concrete wall surrounding the safe-zone. An unfamiliar look crossed Daryl's face; it was something I'd never seen before. Fear. Daryl was scared.

But as Daryl would have it, it was only an illusion. The woman pulled and knife out of her pocket and lifted it slowly up to Daryl's head. I picked up a large stick from a nearby tree and prepared to whack her in the head if I needed to, although I probably should've already done that by now. But rather than begging for mercy, Daryl began laughing. Not a scared laugh, but a low, bellowing, intimidating laugh. The woman paused, a confused look swimming across her wrinkled face, and Daryl took the opportunity to easily free his hands from her grasp and punch her square in the gut. She flew backwards about a foot before landing on her back and sliding on the dirt-caked ground.

"I ain't screwin' around, sunshine." Daryl growled, collecting the large butcher knife from where she had dropped it on the ground when Daryl punched her. He chucked in back onto the ground in front of Aaron, who was still bent over on the ground groaning, and began walking away.

We both straightened our backs as he walked by, praying he would let us off the hook again. The chances were slim, but it wasn't impossible.

He stood in front of us, his dark, ruthless eyes boring into us. He stood for a minute; his big, strong build not unlike a wrestler's making him even more terrifying than usual. "What the hell're you thinkin'?" He shouted, still keeping a close eye on the anonymous woman he had injured.

We were both completely quiet. There was nothing we could possible say that would make Daryl change his mind.

The bright noon sun casts harsh shadows across his sharp face, covering it mostly with darkness. It was hard to read his expression as he continued to glare at us.

"Go get your dad, Carl." He eventually grumbled, taking my shoulder in a tight grip and pushing me closer to the gate. I tugged at the handle a few times before coming to the conclusion that it was locked. Usually they kept it unlocked during times that Daryl and Aaron were out, unless they were gone for more than a day. In that case they decided it was safer for the citizens if the gates continued to be locked.

"It's locked," I squeaked, wishing my voice didn't come out sounding so small. Normally I wasn't the type to back down from a fight, and more often than not I was in arguments with my dad. But Daryl isn't someone I'd want to cross; not in a million years or more. Enid kept a blank look on her face but her eyes hinted at subtle fear.

"Figure it out." He growled back, turning around and beginning his trek back to wherever he came from.

I walked over to Aaron after offering Enid a knowing look. She returned it with a nod and sat down against the wall. "Aaron? You alright?"

He groaned again and nodded. "She's got some kick in her,"

I kneeled down so I was at eye level with him. She must've kicked him harder than I thought if he was in too much pain to even stand up. "Do you need me to help you up?" I offered a hand out to him but he didn't accept.

"No, just leave me here. Get Eric, if you can."

"We can't get in, it's locked." He perked up at the sound of my news.

Aaron was about to respond when a desperate shout came from Enid. "Carl! She's behind you!"

I spun around only to be met with a large stick the size and weight of a baseball bat. My vision began to go blurry and the edges of my sight began to go black. I suddenly felt dizzy and a throbbing headache began to develop; the source was right above my left eye. As hard as I tried to stay conscious, I was pulling at loose straws and barely hanging on. I was awake long enough to see the same fate met by Aaron before I collapsed onto the ground and consciousness slipped from my weakening body.

* * *

 **A.N. Thanks for reading! I'm writing this in an attempt to redeem myself from my last TWD story, considering it was very, very awful. Please review, it really helps me and my writing!**


	2. Helplessness

**We Come Running  
Chapter Two ~ Helplessness  
Annika's POV**

 _Another sleepless night,  
how could you ever let go?_

Sleeping on the splintering wooden floor of a barn wasn't how I expected to spend the rest of my life. Being the mother figure in my baby sister's life while my mother shut herself in whatever closed space she could find wasn't exactly what I pictured when people told me I was growing up fast. I'm too young for this; I'm too young to die.

I don't talk to my mother much anymore. Not that she gave me the time of day, but I could have put up more of an effort. It was too late for that; I put up my last efforts for the first three years. We were on year five and I was about done trying to repair our broken family.

I stroked Wren's hair with my calloused fingers delicately. She had fallen asleep several hours ago with her head rested on my lap. It hurt me to see how skinny she'd gotten due to our lack of food.

I didn't flinch at the feeling of a light, bony hand on my shoulder. "Nikki, did you sleep?" My mother asked, making another attempt to talk to me. I'd started counting on my fingers how many days I could go without speaking to her. I was at six so far. It was hard not to correct her when she called me Nikki. My name is Annika. Nikki was merely my previous name; my alias for innocence. Now all it stood for was my younger days, back in high school when the height of my problems was turning in an unfinished book report next period. "You have to talk to me at some point, hun," She stroked my hair with her long, thin fingers.

If it weren't for my younger sister resting comfortably on my lap, I would've gotten up and left. Escaped into the woods for the day, doing nothing in particular. Maybe collecting acorns and throwing them at squirrels and birds. There wasn't much we could do anymore. With my mother's growing sickness we couldn't leave the barn in which we'd been nested in for almost half a year. She started calling it home.

And home was dangerous.

No matter how much I tried to tell her, she didn't listen to me. "There is no home," I'd say. Sometimes she gave me a dirty look; other times she did nothing at all. Once she scratched at me with her long, sharp nails, leaving temporary white marks down my arm.

She had fallen under a false illusion that things had always been this way. Sometimes she'd tell us stories about when she was a kid living under these conditions. She'd tell us about her brother was killed by the biters, when really, she was the one that killed him when this all started.

I scratched at Wren's head to wake her up. Her normally clear green eyes were tired and groggy and she exhaled a long yawn out of her small mouth. "C'mon, let's go for a walk," I whispered to her, inserting my hands under her underarms and lifting her up to sit on my hip. She immediately rested her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes again.

We had almost made it to the door when I felt a sharp blade against the front of my neck.

"Give me my daughter," She hissed into my ear from behind, lightly sliding the blade across the thin skin of my neck. It stung, and small beads of blood began dripping down and staining my light blue shirt more than it already was. I could feel her hollow, sunken in cheek against mine. Her moods changed faster than the light of day.

I forced myself to remain calm while easing my four year old sister off of my hip and setting her gently on the ground. My breathing grew heavier and faster along with my heartbeat.

"Good," She whispered again, slowly relieving the sharp knife from my neck and taking Wren into her arms. "Now get out."

This wasn't up for debate. This was my great escape that I'd been waiting for all these years, trapped, having to constantly tend to her decaying mind.

From far away she almost looked like a biter, with her lack of body weight and sunken in facial features. Her hair had started falling out from stress and old age but it still reached well below her waist. I realized this as I looked back at my mother over my shoulder from where I was standing on the edge of the forest.

I stopped looking at her when I heard wails and choked sobs coming from Wren. Then I was forced to turn around and only walk away, deeper into the woods. It broke my heart to see her struggling as much as she was. But there was nothing left for me to do; no way to help her without putting myself in danger as well. Call me conceited, but I'd gone cold. It's the only way.

The only sound other than my heavy breathing was the sound of leaves crunching beneath my feet. I walked for what felt like ages, but according to my watch it had only been thirty minutes. My feet were beginning to ache, but I saw nowhere close that looked safe enough to rest. None of the trees had branches low enough to climb; not that I was ever any good at tree climbing anyway.

Finally, I decided on a hollow fallen tree to temporarily abide at until I decided it was safe to return back to the barn. Before removing my shoes I slid out a fully loaded handgun, a Berretta M9, from where I kept it securely tucked in my left boot. I had to keep it hidden from my mom; otherwise she would flip and turn the gun on me.

It wouldn't be the first time.

I slipped off my dirty leather boots and set them inside the hollow log. It was surprisingly strong, considering it was decayed and probably being eaten from the inside out by termites.

Things were quiet at first. Nothing made any sounds, other than the occasional chirping bird or scurrying animal. My watch read 12:13. That meant I had been wandering around the woods aimlessly for almost an hour now. Should I start heading back? No, if I did I'd be in even more trouble than I was at the start. I'd have to wait for her to come back for me, whenever that might be.

As the noon sun began flying higher and higher into the sky like a fiery bird, the warmer it became. I had to use my hand as a shield from the bright sun to avoid being blinded. The trees of the forest didn't help much, considering I was in a large clearing where trees surrounded me but did not hang above. Perhaps it would have helped to move, perhaps not. No matter what the outcome might have been, I chose to stay in the somewhat safe haven of my clearing.

The sound of heavy footsteps followed by lighter, more cautious ones coming from the opposite direction I came from alarmed me. Still barefoot, I gripped tighter onto my gun and flattened myself against the nearest tree which was about 10 yards away.

The footsteps gradually grew closer, but I saw no signs of another being nor did I hear any voices. My chest still rose and fell with every step they took, and my heart skipped a beat whenever I thought I felt something touch my arm.

I secured my index finger on the trigger and held my arms parallel to my sides. There was no way for me to tell if my new guests were armed or not, and even if they weren't, they still could pose as a threat—as if the whole situation the world was enduring wasn't threatening enough.

If I was more heavily armed or maybe had backup to protect me, I might have shouted 'Who's there?' or 'Stop right there!' but I didn't. Instead, I stood behind a tree like a coward. It felt like a silly game of hide and seek.

The footsteps finally came to a sudden halt. It was close to me, but I wasn't going to risk looking around the tree to see just how close. Still, the eerie silence remained.

They remained completely stock-still for what seemed like ages. No movement, no conversation, no nothing. I was beginning to suspect they had spotted me. Maybe they were aiming their weapons at me; maybe they were quietly assessing my physical state before jumping me. Maybe I'd already been shot and I was paralyzed, rapidly losing my memory like water slowly dripping out of a bottle.

 _Just go, just go!_ I thought to myself, attempting to hold myself back from shouting it out loud. What were they even doing, anyway? There was nothing interesting around to look at.

Twigs pinched and poked at my bare feet, but I didn't dare even raise a toe. They could be listening. Maybe that's what they were doing; maybe they heard something—possibly my heavy breathing—and were listening in just to see if I would make another move.

Revealing myself would make me seem weak. It could lead them to believe that I was vulnerable. Although I possessed both such qualities, the enemy knowing that wouldn't exactly help in a fight. Then again, if they discovered that I was hiding they might think that I was hiding because I wasn't up for a fight. That I wasn't prepared, or I didn't want to fight. And that also shows signs of weakness. My one and only way out was just to pray that they wouldn't find me at all.

A single footstep sounded towards me and before I knew it I was in my shooting position; both hands wrapped around the barrel of the gun, my right index finger squeezing threateningly at the trigger. I was never properly taught to shoot; I just kind of figured it out when I first found the gun on a recent supply run. I wasn't anywhere near expert skills. My aim was on borderline good and my reaction speed was merely average.

What I saw were two men, one lofty and burly while the other was thinner and showed to be submissive. The smaller one, who oddly reminded me of a ferret, immediately lifted his hands up in defeat. A gun holster was visible beneath his shirt hooked onto his belt loop but he made no effort to reach for it. On the other hand, the bigger one just glared at me as if I was barely a threat. I spied a crossbow slung down his back as well as a pouch of arrows.

No words from anyone.

The bigger one took another small yet intimidating step toward me. He had brownish hair that hung a few inches below his ears. His eye color was indistinct through his squinted eyes. On his face he bore a stubble and unconnected mustache, a bit lighter than his hair. He somewhat reminded me of someone you'd see working at a car repair shop, or maybe a biker in one of the gangs that liked to hang around diners while they mused on and on about their Harleys and drank beer.

"Drop the weapon," He instructed. His low, burly voice—which, not much to my surprise carried a bit of a southern accent—left me no room for argument. He spoke out of only one side of his mouth as if I wasn't even worth the struggle of committing full effort to my defeat. My filthy hands remained gripped tightly onto my only weapon. "I said, drop it," He repeated, his voice bearing the same lack of interest in me as his previous statement.

"Why?" I challenged, clearly aware of the possible outcome but still unwilling to let go.

Another trifling step toward me. "Because I said so,"

"Daryl," The smaller one stepped forward, laying a hand on Daryl's strong chest. "I'll take care of it."

Daryl shook his head. "You got anyone near? A camp? Settlement?"

"Please, Daryl," The smaller one pleaded, offering a sympathetic look my way. "We can't force it."

Force what? What were they trying to force onto me, death? Sexual harassment? Kidnapping? Torture?

"No, I'm alone," I breathed, my heart still pounding out of my chest. If I couldn't save myself, I might as well make an attempt to save Wren and my mom, even if she did kick me out. Even if Wren was probably already dead, victim to my mother's growing insanity and Alzheimer's.

"I don't believe you," Daryl growled, turning around and trudging in the direction of the barn. Once he was out of sight, I took another step toward the smaller one.

"Who are you? What do you want from me? Don't try anything; I'm not afraid to shoot." Although I must admit, I was very afraid to shoot. I'd killed a good amount of people, maybe somewhere around twenty, but I still wasn't keen on the idea.

He seemed nervous. A bit fidgety, too. "Hello, umm… I'm Aaron," I could tell, he was trying to act as calm as possible. He wanted me to feel comfortable. I wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. "The other man you just met is Daryl,"

I nodded, though I didn't lower my gun. I wasn't going to trust anyone that easily.

"We come from a town called Alexandria. It's about ten miles from here," He kept a close eye on me even as he lowered his backpack down from his shoulder and onto the ground where he unzipped it and reached one hand inside. "We'd like to know if you have any interest in joining our growing safe-haven community. I have pictures, if you'd like to see."

"Where's Daryl going?" I didn't want to give away the fact that my mother and sister were in the barn he was headed for, but I had to make sure that wasn't where he was going, though it probably was.

Aaron looked up at me, surprised by the sudden change in conversation. "He's making sure there's nobody around that might hurt us,"

I took a lengthy step forward so I was hovering over him, gun pointing right at his head. "I have people out there," I snapped. "People that I care about. I just want you to know that if you hurt them, I'll kill you. I am _not afraid_ to shoot."

His eyes widened, taken aback by my sudden burst of anger. I was just as stunned as he was. "Daryl would never hurt anyone who wasn't a threat. Neither will I. As long as they don't hurt us, you're good."

I gave him an uneasy glance. He was being nice to me. Being nice wasn't how you lived out here. You had to be cold; cold was how you had to live if you wanted to make it. Nice makes you soft. Soft makes you weak. Weak gets you killed. "So, pictures," I lowered the gun to my side, and to my shame, I was eager to see this town of his. My index finger still remained safely on the trigger—you never know, nowadays.

"Oh… Right," He jerked his attention back to his backpack nervously, drawing out a large yellow envelope. "We have strong walls, houses, electricity, running water…"

I grew suspicious. There was no way they could be that advanced. And if they were, that means that there's been civil settlements so close and I've been living in a barn eating worms like a nomad? No way. It couldn't be true.

He offered me the envelope and I grabbed it a bit skittishly, taking a step back and raising my handgun back up to aim at his head.

"Please, lower your weapon." Aaron pleaded, removing his own gun from where it sat securely in its holster and laying it on the log. I did the same, very cautiously, suddenly remembering that I was barefoot. That must have been what they were looking at when they stood so quietly without speaking. They knew I was there the whole time, those snoops.

I'd have time to put my shoes back on later but now wasn't the time. If I was sitting on the ground, unprotected and unarmed putting shoes on, I'd be vulnerable. It'd be the perfect opportunity for him to attack me if he wanted to. Aaron smiled thankfully at me with a nod for putting my gun down. He seemed to perk up; he felt more comfortable now. So did I, in a sense.

"How'd you take the pictures?" I was still suspicious. They could have found these anywhere, maybe in an old attic or something. He couldn't prove that these were really his pictures.

"Oh, umm… With an old camera. We found it in the attic of one of our houses. It's not the best quality, I apologize, but it's all we have," He was stuttering like he was nervous. Nervous that I'd reveal their fraud of a town, maybe. I doubted there was even any town at all.

The pictures were mostly black and white and the only ones with color were faded. Some of them had holes or scratches on them. "They look old," I noted, running my long finger across the aged photograph.

"Yeah, uh, they get like that sitting in my backpack for a while. We established Alexandria almost three years ago,"

I tucked the photos back into the envelope and tossed it back to him. "No." With that, I snatched my gun and shoes from the log and began walking toward the barn which was only about five minutes away. The reason it took me so long to get here was because I frequently stopped to sit, maybe catch and lizard and eat the tail. I'd gotten used to the rotten taste after a few years of it.

"Please! Just… Give it a chance, at least. Come look around!" He chased after me without grabbing his weapon back. I hated myself for it, but I was actually starting to trust him.

"No," I repeated, not even turning around to look at him. He still didn't let up.

"Please, just listen to me… I'm sorry, but I don't believe I caught your name."

"Annika."

"Okay, Annika. Please, just listen to me,"

I stopped and turned around. Blood had started to trickle down my neck again from the light knife wound. I brought the collar of my shirt to it and wiped it off. "You can't convince me. I don't trust you."

"I understand that," He didn't even look back at his gun, only stared intently at mine as I sat on the ground and began pulling my boots back on. "But we believe in power in numbers. You can join our community. I won't force you, I just want you to come back and look around. If you decide you don't want to stay, you don't have to. But if you do want to stay, that's great too."

The pictures seemed good enough. There was even one picture of what I assumed was the entire community gathered in front of a large fountain. But I couldn't let them know that I was vulnerable. It would make it too easy for them. I wanted him to beg me; I wanted to go. But I wasn't that weak. "I can't leave my people here. I have to take care of them."

"You can take them with you!" Aaron enthused with a warm smile. I was really starting to like him. I trusted him now. If I went with him, I'd be putting all of my faith into someone who I just met in the middle of the woods. That was why I was so reluctant to follow.

"How did you find me?" I questioned. He and Daryl seemed to be so sure of where I was. They acted like they already knew me.

Aaron's eyes dropped to the ground in embarrassment. "We've been following you. Watching you, listening. You and your mom and your sister. Wren, her name is?"

That was the last straw. Sudden bursts of anger exploded inside of me. I lunged at him with all of my force, wrapping my fingers around his neck. His blue eyes went wild as I pinned him onto the ground, forcing his arms down with my knees, still gripping his neck with one hand and holding my gun to his head in the other. "You're sick!" I spat with my face only but maybe five inches from his.

"We had to do it to ensure you weren't a threat," He choked, trying his best to remain calm seeing as trying to fight back would only make me angrier. He could have knocked my off or hit me, even with his small size he was bigger and stronger than me, but he didn't. He knew I was weak but he didn't take advantage of that.

Daryl, on the other hand, did. I felt two strong hands wrap around my abdomen and before I knew it I was on the ground lying on my back. Daryl stood above me with his crossbow aimed right at my face. The impact brought blood oozing out of my nose. I guess he'd come back from his search for threats.

"No!" A shrill scream pierced through the woods, causing Daryl to throw his head back to identify the source. My mother came into view behind Daryl, caressing her hands over his shoulder. "Don't shoot her!"

Daryl's eyes squeezed back into little slits. "You know her?" I wasn't sure if he was addressing me or my mom. Either way I decided to let her respond.

"Yes! She's my daughter!" She cried out. Aaron scrambled to his feet, racing back to the clearing to retrieve his weapon. I supposed I'd betrayed his trust by now. Oh well, he deserved it.

"You told me you were alone." Daryl growled at me, letting his arm bearing the crossbow drop down to his sides. He wasn't pinning me down anymore, so I took the chance to stand up and wipe off my dark jeans from the dirt that now caked them.

"I am." With one final glare at my mom, I began to walk in the other direction toward the barn.

* * *

Nobody followed me, but as I walked away I heard Daryl yell, "We're comin' back!"

I just shook my head and continued walking toward the barn. I didn't see Wren back at the clearing and I'd begun to worry. My mother's newfound capabilities were well beyond my knowledge.

With my boots finally returned back to my feet and my gun slipped firmly inside, I reached my destination. It was silent, no sounds coming from the barn. No cries, no screams, no shouts from Wren. My heart sank. There were three possible likelihoods: either she had run away, escaped deep into the woods, my mother abandoned her somewhere on their trek to my clearing, or the final one. The one that I dreaded the most but yet knew it was the only reality.

It was true. It was all too real. The knife on the hay stack, the trail of blood leading from one room to the next.

I felt like my life was over. As if I'd been struck in the heart with a dagger. A knot tied in my stomach and my ears started to ring. My knees felt weak and I allowed them to buckle in front of where my sister lay, not necessarily in the mood for restraint.

I lifted Wren's lifeless body into my arms, stroking her long chocolate brown hair the way I used to do when she took naps. Her small, silky pink gown was ripped and stained in her blood.

"No," I whispered, blinking back at the burning tears as best I could. "I'm so sorry, Wren," It was all my fault. I'd seen it coming; I knew it was going to happen eventually. I'd even thought about it as I walked through the woods. Yet I made no force of action. Her emerald green eyes were dull and empty. I slid down her eyelids with my finger to hide the reality that she was gone.

"You're gone, she's gone," I choked, unable to hold back the sobs. It was too late now. I had nothing to lose. "I'm helpless. I'm helpless. I'm gone, too."

* * *

 **A.N. A bit of a longer chapter than I'm used to but I like it! Please review!**


	3. Reassurance

**We Come Running**

 **Chapter Three ~ Reassurance  
Carl's POV**

 _How do you recognize  
the dirty face of gold?_

I awoke to a throbbing pain above my left eye and a coursing ache all throughout the rest of my head. Blood stained the white pillow case beneath my head where I'd been resting for who knows how long. My eyes took a short moment to adjust and focus to the harsh lighting that flooded around me.

"Carl?" A soft hand touched my shoulder and I looked over to see Tess, the pretty young nurse who was in training, standing next to the uncomfortable mattress I was settled on. Curly blonde hair fell over her shoulders like a waterfall, complete with her large jeweled blue eyes. I had a small crush on her when she first came here about six months ago. She went to school with me for a couple of weeks prior to making the decision that she wanted to help out our community and become a nurse. "Carl, are you awake?"

It was still hard for me to see through the blurriness of post-sleep exhaustion but I could distinctly make out my dad sitting in a plastic chair with Judith on his lap. Next to him sat Michonne, leaning over but not getting very far with her large pregnancy belly.

"Yeah," My voice came out tired and weak as I turned over fully onto my side to face her. "Yeah, I'm awake,"

Tess smiled at me and set a plastic cup half full of water onto the table that resided next to the mattress. "Carl, do you remember anything from what happened?"

"Well, I'll have you know that I remember my own name so you don't need to keep saying it." I don't know where it came from, maybe from the built up stress or maybe it's just because that's who I am, but I was in a mood to argue.

"Carl," My dad snapped at me as a warning. He'd told me numerous times to respect the people who worked hard in the town. It was just hard for me to listen to him because I didn't like listening. To anyone. Especially him.

Tess looked slightly offended but didn't say anything; she only cast the infamous 'I'm sorry your son is a douche' look to my dad and Michonne. Everyone gave him that look. They thought they were being sly and hiding it from me, but I'd seen it enough times to know what it meant and when it was coming.

"Yeah, I remember," I sighed. She pushed a lock of my dark brown hair out of my face and smiled at me. It wasn't a sincere smile, though—it was a 'you're a douche but I can't say that in front of your parents' smile.

"Okay, Carl," She continued, stepping away from me. I took a frustrated breath. It was like they didn't even think I knew my own name. "Here's a glass of water on the nightstand. If you need anything else, just call for me or Bryce." Bryce was a middle aged man who acted as the main doctor. He was also Tess's mentor.

"When can we take him home?" My dad asked, setting Judith down on the floor with a quick glance at Michonne, who was still sitting stone-faced. She always seemed to do that; rarely did she ever show any emotions other than serious. She didn't talk much anymore, either, other than to my dad.

Tess turned around from where she had walked, only about ten feet away. "I'm sorry sir, that's not up to me. If you want, talk to Bryce. I'm not far enough in training to assess when the patient is fully recovered." With that, she pivoted around on her heel and continued back on her way out of the room and into the hallway.

"Dad, it's not bad, I'm fine. It's not that big of a—" I started, but he stood up from his chair with so much force that the chair almost fell backwards.

"Carl, what the _hell_ were you doing outside the walls?" He didn't shout, but instead let his words shoot out in a menacing whisper. It was like he was ashamed of me and he didn't want anyone to know what I'd done. I took a minute, stared at him, and shook my head. He knew why. He acted like the victim. My father had a collection of inconspicuous 'looks' that only he and I understood. Right now, he was giving me the 'I raised you better than this and you should act more like me' look.

A soft knock on the opened door interrupted whatever threat was about to be thrown my way. I looked up to see Enid holding my backpack in one hand and a paper bag in the other.

"Oh, sorry…" She took a step back, shying away from the occupied room. "I wasn't trying to…"

"Nope," My dad took hold of Judith's hand and Michonne's arm and stood up. "We were just leaving." He didn't even make eye contact with me as he left the room, which I was somewhat thankful for. That meant I had to prepare for a shit storm when I got home—great, just what I wanted.

"Hey," Enid greeted, walking over to the guest chairs sitting next to my mattress, still seeming a bit nervous. "Do you feel okay?"

I propped myself up on my elbow so I was almost at eye level with her. "Yeah, I'm fine. What's up?"

She set the paper bag on the edge of the mattress and slung my backpack over the shoulder to allow it to land on the chair next to the one she sat on. "Look in the bag,"

I cast a playfully suspicious glare at her as I retrieved the bag. It was light, almost as if the contents were nonexistent. The brown bag was folded and loosely rolled over at the top. Enid shifted uncomfortably in her chair, as if she was embarrassed by whatever was in the bag.

The first thing I saw was wood. A small sliver of wood; a piece of bark ripped clean from an oak tree, like the ones outside of the town walls. I drew the wood out of the bag prudently, careful not to break the delicate object. "What's this," My question came out more like a statement.

She smiled awkwardly and looked away when I studied the wooden object. At first it just looked like plain bark, dirtied and fragile. But a closer look revealed a small design, maybe distinct writing, carved into the brown exterior shell of the bark.

She finally got over her discomfiture and got out of her chair to sit next to me, examining the bark. "Remember when you gave me the knife? And I said I was gonna carve something?"

I nodded, turning the bark over slowly in my hands. It was supposed to be writing, I realized, but it was unfinished and nearly illegible. "Yeah, you were carving it when Daryl came," I looked up and winked at her. "And then I saved your ass."

Enid rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Saved my ass? I'll have you know, we're still in some deep shit." Despite the circumstances, I chuckled weakly.

"I never got to see what you were carving," I continued, running my thumb across the surface of the object.

"Do you have a marker?" She suddenly asked. It was unclear to me how this was in any way related to the discussion, but I still got up to grab my bag. ""Yeah,, somewhere in here…" I dug through it a bit until I discovered a thick black pen. It wasn't quite as good as a marker might've been, but it was a writing utensil nonetheless. "Well, there's this,"

She took it without a word and began tracing over the carvings. She was right; it was easier to see with the marker over it, so I'm glad she did. On the bark, she had carved ' _Enid and Carl are still alive_ '. It was sort of like our catchphrase; we said it whenever something bad happened. Like the time we accidentally let a walker into the safe-zone. That was bad… But we got it before it did anything too harmful.

I smiled at her, taking the bark and examining it closer. It made me feel bad, since I'd jerked her away from the tree so quickly that she couldn't even finish what she was doing. In the end, it didn't even matter, since we got caught anyway. "But now it's not on the tree,"

She shrugged and I noticed a devious look on her face. "We'll get it the next time we go out there."

I chuckled and set the bark delicately onto the top of my open backpack. "How long have I been in here?" Nobody had even told me yet.

"Three days,"

"What? I was unconscious for that long? It wasn't even that bad of an injury,"

"No, you were in and out of consciousness. They had you so doped up, though; I'm not surprised you don't remember,"

Now, that I believed. It didn't even come as a surprise to me; the time Daryl got my jaw I was in here for almost a week. It happened to be the same week that Maggie had her baby… A week of endless screaming and crying; it was pure torture. "Anything exciting happen?"

Nothing exciting ever happened. Ever. Yet they expected us to just sit here inside the walls like everything was all fine and dandy? It was bad enough we had to go back to school, and I skipped out on that more often than not.

"Actually yes," Well, that sure came as a surprise. Even with the lack of common excitement in the town, Enid was still very unenthusiastic. Don't get me wrong, she was a happy person, she just wasn't easily excited. "The woman that put you in here? She's gone missing. They're out in the woods looking for her, but so far no signs,"

"Really? Do they know why she might have left?" She seemed more like the kind of person who would lock everyone in cages in a basement, burn the whole town down, kill us slowly, _then_ run away. I guess not.

"Nope, once they got here in and calmed her down she asked to be left alone for a minute. Had to get her story straight," Enid pushed a strand of her brown hair behind her ear. "Next thing they knew, she was gone."

It was interesting, just not much of my intrigue. I'd jump at the chance to hit her upside the head with something bigger and harder than a stick, but if she was already lost outside the walls then it was only a matter of time before she died, anyway. "Oh. Anything else?"

"I think there's a new girl, Daryl brought her back a little while after you got hit. I haven't seen her, though."

"You think she's got something to do with the other girl? The missing one?"

"Not sure. From what I heard, she's claiming she has no relation to the woman.

"From what you've heard…"

A guilty look flashed over her face, but it quickly morphed into triumph. "I did some eavesdropping,"

"Without _me_?" It was like our tradition to eavesdrop on every new member's interview. Casual citizens weren't allowed to see or hear the interview, only the council members and other people of high ranks were permitted. And hey, what can I say? We got curious. People said things to Deanna that they never said to us. We were the only other people who knew those things that they told Deanna.

"Sorry, I didn't want us to miss it. But that's all I heard."

"Oh," I acted hurt that she did it without me, but really I didn't care. It was actually kind of nice to be able to relax for a while. "Is that it?"

"Umm… Yeah, pretty much." That same strand of hair fell in front of her face and she pushed it back again. "When do you get out of here?"

"I dunno. They say I have to ask the doctor,"

"Then ask the doctor," She asserted, standing up and taking the empty paper bag with her. "I'll be at my house waiting for whenever you've been released from captivity and into the wild."

I chuckled. She had a nice sense of humor, though she used it selectively.

I dreaded when the time would come when I had to return home; I wasn't ready for my dad's anger yet. He'd start yelling, Judith would start crying, the neighbor's dogs would start barking, dad would get angrier and start yelling at the neighbors… Maybe he'd cool down bit if I just spent the night at Enid's.

Doctor Bryce reluctantly let me out, saying he'd take my word for it when I told him I felt better and sent me out with an ice pack and a bandage. I whipped through the town to Enid's house, seeing my dad several times on the street and narrowly dodging him.

An empty driveway hinted that Enid was home alone. She lived with the Erics, a new family that had moved in several months ago. They usually had four bicycles in the driveway, two for the parents, one for their nine year old son Reece, and one for Enid. The only one still remaining was Enid's rusty gray bike. She usually opted to stay home while her adopted family rode around the town looking for something interesting to do.

I knocked on the door, three knocks. No answer. I couldn't even hear her coming down the stairs like I usually could when she was there. So I knocked again, three knocks. Still no answer.

"Enid?" I called, hoping if she was in there she'd hear me or wake up if she was asleep. I waited a minute, but still nothing. No sound, no responses—the house seemed to be empty. The front door was locked. I circled around and tried the back gate, which was locked as well. But that was easy to climb. Actually, I could just jump it.

The backyard seemed normal, a few lawn chairs circling around a rarely used fire pit and a large tree with a work-in-progress treehouse nestled in the top. It was a project that Reece and his dad had been working on. They invited Enid to help out, but she turned down the offer without hesitation.

The stairs to the back porch creaked as I walked up them slowly. Their house cat walked up behind me and rubbed on my leg with a loud, hungry meow. "Beat it, fat ass," I snapped, gently kicking the fat tabby cat.

The porch door was unlocked, luckily; otherwise I might've had to pop the screen out. Everything seemed to be normal. All the blinds in the house were drawn shut, like always, but still no sound emitted from the house.

Like the porch door, the back door was unlocked, granting me a full access entryway to the tidy home. "Enid? Are you here?" I called again. Something faint sounded from upstairs, like something falling over.

I raced up the stairs, my worry growing more and more intense by the second. It was hard to decide which bedroom of the four to check. Since Enid was the only one in the house that I actually cared about, I wandered into her bedroom first.

The chipped door made a squeaking sound as I pushed it open. It swung open, slowly, revealing her room as normal. Some dirty laundry laying on the floor in various placed around the room, a partially made bed, a desk covered in dirty dishes and stray papers. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary.

I was about to exit the room when I heard a soft bumping sound against the closet door. There was no way for me to know who—or what—it was, so I approached it slowly. The closer I grew to the closet the more clearer I heard a soft weeping sound; Enid. I'd never heard her cry before. Hell, she barely ever even laughed, let alone cry.

"Enid?" I whispered from right outside the closet door, not wanting to open it until I had her consent. She might not want me to see her crying. "Enid, it's Carl,"

She sniffed and tried to hide that she was crying. I could tell by the way her voice changed; it was deeper but more nasally. "Carl," She bumped against the closet door again. "Carl, I'm okay,"

"What happened? Can you come out?" I continue to whisper, although I'm not sure why.

She pushed open the door and I saw her sitting on the ground with her legs bent out. She had a blanket draped over her legs, but she showed no signs of being injured. I leaned down and took her into my arms, whispering to her as she buried her face in my neck. "Enid, what happened?"

She broke out into full on sobbing. I slid my backpack off of my shoulder and took her into a tighter embrace with both arms. My head was turned so my nose was in her hair. I closed my eyes, miserable to see her this upset. "Enid…" I whispered again, knowing that I had to pull the truth out of her. When I didn't receive a response I decided she needed a minute to calm down before she was ready to confess.

I picked her up and lifted to her onto her bed, laying her down gently and sitting next to her. I wasn't used to comforting people, and I proved to not be very good at it, but I stroked her hair and rubbed her back like my mom used to do to me when I was upset.

Enid continued to sob, choked breaths escaping her mouth between failed attempts at sentences. She grabbed my hand that I was using to stroke her hair and held it tight, drawing it in near her stomach and squeezing it so hard that it actually hurt. "You're hurting me," I finally fessed up after a minute or two. She released my hand and sat up, her sobs slowing down. Even as she stopped crying tears still streamed from her dark brown eyes.

"Sorry," She muttered, wiping her running nose. "I, umm…" She held back another sob.

"Calm down," I breathed to her, taking her hand into my own again.

"I saw something," She finally managed to choke out. "Something that…" The sobs started back up again. I felt bad for forcing it out of her, but I knew she had to talk about it at some point. Better sooner than later.

"What was it?" Her hand was weak in mine, unlike just a moment ago when she was squeezing it so hard that my circulation was almost cut off. "Talk to me, Enid…"

"Something bad," She began talking even through her sobs. It was hard to decipher what she was saying but I understood how upset she was and therefore it might be a while before she'd be able to talk right. "Jonathan, Reece, Kayla… I saw them… They were…" Jonathan and Kayla were her adopted parents, and Reece was their child—furthermost her adopted brother. She turned around and grabbed me again, pressing the side of her face against the side of mine as she cried. She didn't even seem ashamed anymore, now she was just desperate for help.

"Dead," I finished for her because I knew she couldn't say it on her own. "Were they dead?"

"Yeah," She sobbed. I felt her tears roll down onto my shoulder, leaving a temporary damp spot on my gray T-shirt. "They were dead, Carl."

"Okay," I comforted her. "Okay. I'll be right back," I released her from my embrace and began my way back down the light wooden stairs. The house seemed to empty, knowing that the family who lived here wouldn't be back.

I never liked them, to be honest. They were like one of the Stepford wives families. Stay home mom, working dad… Perfect. Too perfect. The kind of family that seemed to have no problems.

Then again, that's what everyone thought about Jesse and Pete.

I reached the bottom of the stairs and looked around the house. Even their house was perfect during a zombie apocalypse. Makes me sick.

Their fridge was mostly empty with the exception of a few water bottles, a large plastic cup full of milk, and dairy drawers filled of fruits and vegetables. I grabbed a half filled water bottle from where it sat on a shelf in the door. Aside from that I also let the cat, Gracie, inside and grabbed a box of tissues. Gracie had taken a keen liking to Enid, but the relationship wasn't exactly mutual. But at this point I was willing to try anything to get my best friend to feel better.

What do you give a crying girl whose family just died? Chocolate? A hug? Space? I can't think of anyone who would know, and I sure as _hell_ didn't know.

I retreated back up the stairs and back into Enid's room. I found her curled up under the covers sobbing. She lifted up the covers when she heard me coming and almost grimaced at the sight of the cat. "Ew, get that little shit out of here," Yep, even in crisis there's her infamous sense of humor.

"Thank god, the thing weighs like thirty pounds." I pointed out, setting the cat down outside the room and slamming the door.

She fell back onto the bed and I pulled a tissue from the plain white tissue box. She took it when I handed it to her and used it to wipe her eyes from tears and then her nose.

"I'm really sorry," I made another attempt at comforting her by picking her up and laying her head on my lap. "We'll find whoever did it, I promise."

Enid repositioned herself up and looked at me. "That's not why I'm upset,"

Despite our close friendship I grew suspicious of her. Why else would she be so upset, other than the demise of her new family. "Then... Why?"

She took a minute of looking at me, tears welling up in her eyes. Her bottom lip quivered, and right before she burst into another explosion of tears and sobs, she starting breathing heavily. "Because I killed them."

* * *

 **A.N. Sorry it took me a while to get this uploaded, it took me some time to write. Please keep reviewing! x**


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